This will be the second Christmas since my father passed away. I don't think it will ever get any easier.
I've noticed that my mother has gotten unsettled. She doesn't really know what to do with herself. We don't really know, either. Time has marched on and everything keeps moving. We don't really think about Dad not being here...until. Something happens, or we stop to do something and remember. He was here when we did this. Or, we did that and Dad was part of the company. When that happens, it's almost like getting a case of vertigo. Sometimes it lasts only a few seconds or a minute or two. Other times, it might leave me reeling for an hour. I know I'm not the first to lose a parent or someone I was very close to. When I say it that way, it's like I should find a little comfort in that, but there's none really to be found. It's times like these that I'm reminded - SO profoundly - that the human race was not intended to experience grief. I know we do experience it, often regularly and in large doses. But, ultimately grief was not intended for us.
In the time since Dad passed, I have been busy trying to find out as much as I can about the things he never told me. For one, where did we come from? Dad honestly didn't know. Really, it wasn't his fault, either. The Knoxes came from Alabama by way of South Carolina. Due to the nature of their arrival, our people didn't spend a lot of time talking about where they came from. I'm sure it was part of self preservation. But now that the Statute of Limitations has expired, it would be wonderful to get some inside information. Unfortunately, just about everyone who knew anything at all are all gone.
The other thing I've been trying to find out about is Dad's time in service. For those who know, Dad fought in one of the most pivotal battles of World War II. He froze off his behind for a few weeks outside of a Belgian town called Bastogne. He often spoke of the place, but never bothered to say much about what happened there. Some might argue that his time in the military was such a short time. It couldn't be so important, given his long life and the time he had with his family. But, when he was feeling good or in a mood to talk, he would often choose to mention something from his time in the military. I have to believe it was important to him.
So, in the last year and a half, I've had to fill in the blanks. A little over a year before he died, Dad and I watched Band of Brothers together and he opened up more than ever before to me. If I could have that time back, I have a whole list of questions I would ask him. So, instead of getting the information from him, I'm still looking elsewhere...and it stinks.
So, this Christmas, I am thankful that my family is together. I'm thankful I have time off and can enjoy being at home with those I love. But, it will be very obvious that someone is missing from our festivities. Our thoughts never stray far from thinking of him. And because he survived an absolutely hellacious winter in Belgium 68 years ago, he made it possible that we could be together and remember the man Dad went on to become.
